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After they were gone and the door closed, Helen released Damien and indicated the opposite side of the bed with a pat. “Sit here, honey. I need to talk to my sister for a minute.”
Lucy felt embarrassed and shy. “Look, Helen, you’ve already thanked me for helping you with the babies. But it was my fault we were out there—”
“Hush!” Helen touched Lucy’s mouth with her fingertips. “I suggested the walk. I flew from New York Against Damien’s wishes and the doctor’s orders, so enough about fault. We’re fine, and we’re here to celebrate a whole bunch of birthdays, and...” Helen’s expression grew sly. “And one other important and wonderful event!”
Lucy grew confused. She looked at Damien who appeared equally puzzled, though he smiled. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, either, but...” He took Lucy’s hand and lifted it to his lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “How can I repay you for saving Helen and my little girls?”
His expression was so full of emotion, Lucy’s eyes filled with tears. Pulling her lips between her teeth, she swallowed to get control of her voice. “I’m glad...” The words were so weak and shuddering, she stopped, trying again. “I’m glad everything turned out okay.”
“Now don’t make me cry, you two. It hurts,” Helen interrupted, sounding a little quivery herself. “Will you let me say something that’s very important?” She propped herself up on her pillows to have better eye contact with her sister. After getting comfortable, she took both of Lucy’s hands in hers. “Do you realize you’ve fulfilled all the requirements of the myth?”
Lucy was baffled. She looked at Damien in time to see his expression change from soft concern to wariness. “What are you saying, sweetheart?” He touched Helen’s hair, smoothing it along the pillow.
His wife glanced at him, her expression loving. “The D’Amour myth.” She returned her gaze to Lucy, her features animated. “You’re going to marry Jack.”
Lucy had never been so completely blindsided in her life. Not even by Stadler’s appalling letter yesterday, telling her he was breaking their two-year engagement to marry someone else. After she’d waited a year, then nine more lonely months while the Shakespearean troupe extended their tour of Australia again and again. She had been devastated by Stadler’s cruel blow. But this? This was insane!
She frowned, unable to do more than stare at her sister, who was obviously having a psychotic reaction to childbirth. Pulling a hand from Helen’s grip, she felt her sister’s forehead. “This isn’t good.”
“Is she feverish?” Worry edged Damien’s voice.
“I’m afraid not.” Lucy reached for the nurse’s call button. “And talking crazy like she is, she should be burning up.”
“I’m perfectly fine.” Helen grabbed Lucy’s wrist before she could call the nurses’ station. “Don’t you remember the myth?”
Lucy squinted down at her sister. “That—that thing about the birthday and the full moon?”
Helen nodded. “And sleeping in the mansion. And for your information, today is your birthday. Last night there was a full moon, and I know you slept because I saw you.”
Wide-eyed, Lucy looked to Damien for guidance. “What should we do?”
“I don’t know about you—” he grinned at his confused sister-in-law “—but when the time comes, I intend to kiss the bride.”
Lucy’s mind tumbled and skidded. Clearly, whatever psychosis that was affecting Helen had spread to her husband. She pulled from Helen’s grasp and backed away. “If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.”
Helen sat up, then grimaced, lying back down. “It’s not a joke. Tell her, Damien.” Taking the hand that had been stroking her hair, she kissed his palm. “Tell her that Jack Gallagher is her destiny, just like you were mine.”
Damien lifted one shoulder in an offhand shrug, looking terribly charming—such a big man perched carefully on the small bed beside the woman he loved. Two unlikely people who had found each other in an improbable place, their chance meeting changing both their lives drastically. “I like Jack. You two would be a great couple,” he said with a grin.
“But—but Jack’s been like a brother to us,” Lucy cried. “He—he...” She clamped her jaw. This conversation was ridiculous. “Besides, I—I can’t conceive of marriage right now!” Her heart wanted to scream that concepts like “trust” and “commitment” were sour, bitter lies as far as she was concerned. Stadler’s treachery had done great damage to her heart, damage not quickly mended—if ever.
Even so, Lucy wasn’t the sort of person to get angry and shout or argue. She’d always been the peacemaker of the three sisters. So from long years of practice, she straightened her face. She wasn’t mad at Helen. The sweet, stubborn dear had insisted on flying from New York just to be with Lucy on her birthday.
Clamping her hands together, she eyed them both with as much poise as she could muster. “I think the way you two met was extremely romantic, and it was a beautiful coincidence—considering the myth and all. But don’t you breathe a word of that nonsense again or I’ll—I’ll...”
“What?” Helen asked with a smirk. “Knit me a really ugly sweater?” She laughed, then winced, but quickly regained her smile. “To be honest, it won’t be necessary for either of us to lift a finger. Your fate is sealed.”
Lucy’s brows knit further and she stared pointedly at Damien. “The subject ends here, right?”
He winked. “I always said Jack was a damn lucky man. I just didn’t know how lucky.”
Lucy’s lips parted in stunned disbelief. “You two are crazy.”
“We are cute, aren’t we?” Helen snuggled against her husband. “And we’re happy for you, Lucy.”
She drew a deep breath and forbade herself to tremble. “Get some sleep, both of you. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“You’re cute when you’re in denial,” Helen said, waving goodbye. “Now go away. Damien has some serious kissing to do.”
His low chuckle mingled with his wife’s laughter, chasing Lucy from the room. As she scurried along the hallway toward the parking lot, she vowed that Jack would never get wind of what had been predicted today. Jack Gallagher felt indebted to their father for helping turn his life around, and because of that deep affection and appreciation, he cared for all three of the Crosby daughters—equally.
She would never allow him to be embarrassed by such a crazy notion!
Since Old Man Winter had decided to revisit Branson, Jack lit a fire in the inn’s parlor. Luckily, March was not one of the busiest tourist months in the bustling Missouri town referred to as the “Las Vegas of the Ozarks,” so there was a vacant room for Jack.
Lucy had taken a long nap and a relaxing bath that afternoon, so she felt more human as she sat on the white muslin sofa, toying with the fringe of one of the colorful throw pillows. Covertly, she watched Jack as he and Elissa played gin on the Oriental rug before the fire.
Elissa slapped his hand as he picked up a card she’d just thrown on the discard pile. “That’s the third card of mine you’ve taken!”
He slipped it into his fan of cards. “Can I help it if you don’t know a good card when you see one?”
“You’d better take care,” Elissa warned him, drawing another card. She frowned at it, scanned Jack with narrowed, suspicious eyes, then slapped it onto the discard pile. He plucked it up, and this time, Elissa dropped her cards and grabbed his hand with both of hers. “Oh, no! Oh, no! There’s a rule that you can’t take more than three discards in a row.”
“Show me in the rule book.” He laughed as she yanked on the playing card.
“Don’t you trust me?” she squealed.
“Not a chance.”
The card was now bent and twisted, but Jack didn’t release it, only chuckled at Elissa’s futile struggles as he placed it with his other cards.
“If you gin, I’ll kill you.”
“Gin,” he said without missing a beat, his grin so delightfully devilish it stole Lucy’s breath.
With a wild groan, Elissa yanked his cards from his fingers and tossed them into the air. “I will not play with a cheater!”
Lucy found herself joining the laugher. She reached out and caught a card as it fluttered down. “Jack, when will you learn that Elissa hates to lose?”
He glanced up at her. The firelight did clever things to his hair, giving him a bronze halo. His teeth seemed excessively white as he grinned her way. “Then you play with me. My health insurance rates will go down.”
“Oh, you...” Elissa leaned over and tweaked his cleft chin. “You’re the only man on earth I can’t beat at gin and I hate that about you. It’s an unforgivable flaw in your character.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “That makes two unforgivable flaws. Lucy says I don’t have a clue where babies come from.”
“Really?” Elissa passed a dubious glance toward Lucy. “Do you suppose that supermodel who stalked him for six months thought that, too?”
“She didn’t stalk me,” Jack cut in, amusement in his voice. “She just followed me around and hid in my grounds from time to time.”
Elissa stood. “Well, excuse me. I’m insane for suggesting she stalked you. After all, stalking is when somebody follows you around and hides in your grounds. My mistake.”
“Okay, okay. But she’s safely back in France now,” he said. “Getting treatment.”
Elissa smiled playfully. “What was it she couldn’t resist about you, Jack dear? Your gin game?”
Lucy’s cheeks grew hot. “I was kidding when I said that, Elissa. I’m sure Jack is well aware of sexual—stuff.”
Elissa laughed. “Lucy, Jack knew stuff even before his mother married Dad and they moved in with us.” She gave him a superior smirk. “I should know because my room was right below his. I saw his girlfriends climbing up the trellis to his room.”
Jack’s expression grew sheepish, captivatingly so. “Hell. You knew?”
“No!” Lucy cried. “I don’t believe it. I never saw any girls. And I ran in and jumped right into Jack’s bed during thunderstorms.”
“During thunderstorms the windows were closed,” Elissa reminded her with a laugh.
The fire popped and hissed, and Jack turned away to took into the flames. Lucy had a feeling he was embarrassed about this discussion of his wild youth.
“On those infrequent nights when his window was closed, it kept out the rain and half the pubescent females in Kansas City.” Elissa crossed her arms before her, eyeing Lucy as though she were a touch feeble-witted. “And you said he didn’t know where babies came from. Just another example that you’re not a good judge of men.”
The remark was like a punch in her heart, and Lucy grimaced.
Suddenly, Elissa was standing before her, holding her face. “Gosh, I’m sorry. That wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—I was trying to be funny.” She let out a disgusted breath and eyed the ceiling. “I’m just so furious at Stadler. That’s all. Can you forgive me?”
Lucy swallowed to ease the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat, then nodded. “Sure—sure...”
“Hey.” Elissa inhaled, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “How about some tea? Since you won’t let us celebrate your birthday until Helen and the twins are home, we might as well have a cup of English Apple to commemorate year number twenty-six. What do you say?”
Lucy nodded. “Sounds good.” She managed to smile and even make direct eye contact with her sister, who looked so upset by her slip of the tongue that Lucy couldn’t be angry with her.
“Want some help?” Jack asked.
“No.” Elissa faced him, thumping her fists on her hips. “Cardsharps must clean up the mess.”
“I presume that’s straight out of ‘Elissa’s Gin Rule Book for Sleazoids Who Beat Her’?”
“Chapter one.” She lifted her chin in haughty affront. “Sleazoid.”
After Elissa. left the room, Lucy discovered that Jack was silently watching her. He bent one knee, curling an arm around it. “Would you like to play with me?”
She felt a strange tremor along her spine and shook it off. Helen’s prediction that afternoon had left its lingering effect, and Jack’s innocent question seemed erotic. Shaking her head, she sat farther back in the fluffy couch, clutching the pillow she’d been toying with to her breasts. “Oh—no, I’m not very good at gin.”
“Neither is Elissa.” His grin was so appealing she found herself smiling back. “You tell her I said that and you’re toast.”
She nodded. “I know.”
They watched each other for another minute before Jack tilted his head in a way that told her he was there to listen if she wanted to talk. It was bizarre how he could communicate so much without a word. No doubt it was because she knew him so well.
She shook her head. “I don’t think you can help me with this, Jack.”
“I could try.”
Uncomfortable under his close scrutiny, she cleared her throat. “Just be my friend. Okay?”
Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Right.”
He began to pick up the cards and she scanned him as he moved. Watched the energy of his actions, his economy of motion. The clothes he wore were simple, but rich. His beige trousers emphasized hard thighs and taut hips. His shirt was an emerald green knit, and as he moved, muscle rippled, making a tantalizing show of shoulders and arms. She lounged her head back, casually gazing, almost feasting. It was surprising how the simple act of gathering a few cast-off playing cards could be such eye candy.
His knuckle scraped against her ankle as he retrieved the last fallen card, and she yelped, not aware that she’d slipped into a daydream.
“Sorry.” He came up beside her and sat on the couch to shuffle the cards. The broken one flipped out of the pack and landed in her lap. She gasped and flinched. “Aren’t we a little jumpy tonight?” As he picked up the playing card, his fingers grazed her inner thigh through her trousers. Her body registered his brief touch with a queer tingling. “You seem nervous, Luce.”
Restive, she tossed aside the pillow she’d been clutching, then thought better of it, squeezing it against her breasts as some sort of blue damask barrier. “No—no, I’m not nervous,” she lied, then wondered why in the world she was. She and Jack were about as close as any man and woman could be who weren’t really brother and sister. She avoided his scrutinizing gaze, focusing on his chin, deeply cleft and tan. Casting around for a safe topic, she asked, “Why are you in town, Jack?”
“I thought Elissa told you. I’m thinking of opening my fifth Gallagher’s Bistro here in Branson.” She met his eyes, not realizing she’d done so until his half-mast glance was sparkling into hers. “I figured what’s good enough for New York City, Chicago, L.A. and London is good enough for the Crosby girls.”
She smiled against her will. Suddenly shy, she scanned her lap to avoid his intense eyes. “Speaking on behalf of all the Crosby girls—I thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” His hard thigh brushed hers as he relaxed back. “Nice fire.”
“Bragging?” She was surprised to find herself ribbing him for a change.
He chuckled. “I’m almost as good at fire building as I am at playing gin.” He nudged her with his elbow. “Sort of a Jack-of-all-trades.”
She groaned. “That pun never gets any better.”
He shrugged and she felt it. He was sitting very close. Which was fine. She had nothing to fear from him. Just because Helen said she and Jack were going to be married didn’t mean Jack had amorous intentions toward her. And that was absolutely for the best, since the last thing on her mind was romance.
“Tired?”
“No.” She shook her head, leaning against his shoulder. It was true. She wasn’t tired, just downhearted, lost, emotionally adrift. Sleep seemed like the best escape, and her body was willing to oblige.
“Elissa’s fixing your birthday tea.”
“I’m awake.”
He shifted to put his arm around her. “Sure you are, Luce.”
She didn’t know how long she napped in Jack’s embrace before the doorbell woke her.
“I’ll get it,” Elissa said.
“Just in time,” Jack murmured against her hair. “You didn’t fall asleep, did you?”
“No...um—no—I’m wide...” She pushed away from him, her denial thick and slurred. When she straightened and looked around, she noticed a silver tea tray sitting on the coffee table.
He laughed softly. “You’re not that wide.”
She peered at him, fuzzy-headed. “What?”
